Symphony of Silver Tears
by icedintheveins
Summary: On a stormy night, and after a nasty argument, Blaine leaves.  It's a slow and painful process as Kurt and Blaine piece back together their remains of a relationship. Klaine. Oneshot. WARNING! heavy making out, alcohol and drug abuse, depression.


_i sang my prince fast asleep  
>'cause he was my dream come true<br>oh, believe me, i loved you_

_but now these lonely lullabies  
>just dampen my tired eyes<br>because i can't forget you  
>because i can't forget you<em>

_i'll dissolve when the rain pours in  
>when the nightmares take me<br>i will scream with the howling wind  
>'cause it's a bitter world, and i'd rather dream<em>

**lonely lullaby; owl city**

.

.

Blaine comes to him on a rainy Tuesday evening, running his hands through his curls. Kurt looks up from his book, and with one look at his disheveled boyfriend, becomes extremely anxious. Blaine doesn't waste a second to tell Kurt what's on his mind.

"I think we need to take a break."

Immediately, Kurt's heart starts racing, because he knows they've been having trouble lately, but he didn't think it was this bad. And come on, they're _KurtandBlaine,_ and they're in love and they belong together and nothing ever tears them apart. He opens his mouth to speak but it takes a moment for the words to actually leave his lips.

"But . . why?"

Blaine sighs, looking away from him for a moment.

"Kurt, we've been fighting every other day like it's our job," he says quietly. "I just think that maybe it would be best for our relationship if we took some time away from each other."

"No," Kurt says quickly, and he's on his feet, standing firmly in front of Blaine. "Why? Blaine – we can work through this. We always work through everything."

"Not lately," Blaine says, and here they go.

Their voices rise to yells and shouts, and fingers get pointed into faces, and curse words slip into sentences, and hurtful things are said. They start arguing about things completely off topic that seemed to have already been resolved. The wind speeds up outside, raging against the walls, mixing with their voices, and lightning cracks and thunder booms. They know that they're probably waking the neighbors with their screaming, but they hardly care, because Kurt doesn't want to lose Blaine, but Blaine is stubborn and thinks that by separating they'll be able to figure everything out. However, Kurt believes that if they do that, they'll be bound to grow apart from each other, that Blaine will find somebody else, and though they haven't been getting along, Kurt loves with Blaine with everything inside him, and he just couldn't stand to see him with someone else.

Into the night they go on, and only when it's pitch black, and when the storm has picked up and seems to be at his peak does Kurt finally give in. Because he's reached that point where all he feels is anger and resentment, and at this split second all he wants is Blaine out of his sight, so he shouts, "Fine! Just leave then, Blaine. I don't fucking care anymore."

Blaine smiles, sarcastic and smug. "Allow me to pack my bags and I'll just be on my way," he says, his voice filled with acid.

And in less than twenty minutes, he's out the door, slamming it behind him and storming down the hall. Kurt swears that even through the storm, he can hear the screeching of Blaine's tires as he speeds down the street.

Instantly, Kurt's anger dissipates, and he's left worrying over the fact that Blaine is driving through a thunderstorm on the water-filled streets in almost pitch blackness. He paces around for a half hour before he picks up his cell phone and hits speed dial number one. Blaine answers on the second ring, and assures Kurt that he's fine – the he's currently at Finn and Rachel's and out of the storm.

They talk for more than an hour, calm and collected now, being grown up and elaborating on their decision. Blaine decides that he's going to stay with Rachel and Finn until he can find a place of his own. They decide that maybe after month or two or three that they could possibly give this another chance, but at the moment, they need their space. They decide that they're free to date other people, that their romantic relationship is over but they'll see each other and that they still care about the other.

It's nearly one in the morning when Kurt finally gets off the phone with Blaine, his heart aching, his chest feeling tighter with each passing second. The realization hits him like a ton of bricks – he's just broken up with his boyfriend. His boyfriend of five years that he thought he was going to spend the rest of his life with. His boyfriend he thought would eventually become his husband and a father along with him. He knows that it could still happen, that they'll get through this – because they always do – but it still _hurts_ because he's just lost Blaine from a huge part of his life.

He doesn't get to come home anymore to see Blaine lounging in the living room, or cooking dinner in the kitchen. He doesn't get to crawl in bed every night and give him a quick peck on the lips before lying down and going to sleep. He doesn't get to wake up in the morning to feel Blaine's body warm and comforting next to his before he gets up to make breakfast for them.

He looks around the empty apartment, and suddenly it feels much bigger. The tears come fast, the sobs faster, racking his body harshly, and the sounds seem to echo off the walls. Thunder still rages outside, and rain beats hard against the outside walls, but his ears still ring with his and Blaine's angry words.

He curls up into a ball, grabbing a throw pillow from the couch and pressing it to his stomach, wrapping his arms around it. Thunder booms overhead, and he lets out a scream – long, frustrated, and earsplitting. He feels broken and hopeless, and just doesn't know what to do with himself.

Sometime after the sobs subside and the hiccups take over, the sounds of the storm fade from his ears, the apartment swimming before his eyes, and as sleep finally overcomes him, he's whisked away into dreams that aren't much better than reality.

.

.

Blaine wakes up cold.

It's odd sleeping by himself with no one next to him, and in fact, it's quite uncomfortable. He gives a sigh as he realizes he's going to have to get used it. He turns over onto his side, not quite wanting to get up. The mattress underneath him is nothing like the one in his and – in Kurt's apartment, and his limbs are sore and achy. The room is still dim, curtains covering the early morning sun coming through the window, and he stares at the wall, a million things running through his mind.

He really just doesn't know he ended up here.

With a shattered heart and a tired brain and an overwhelming sense of sadness drowning him. He's not even sure when he and Kurt started arguing every other day or why it started or how it got so bad. He just knows that the more often it occurred, and the longer the shouting matches lasted, the more he panicked and felt scared. He knew they were going to have to do something, but why he decided to take control and break up with Kurt and move out was beyond him.

They could've easily just gone to couple's therapy or something. Or just took time off to see their families so they were away from each other for awhile. He realizes now, after everything's said and done, that it was really a drastic option to split up.

Blaine curls up more tightly, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders. He closes his eyes, wishing for sleep to come, but now that he's awake, it will be impossible. Eventually he'll have to go back out into the world and face his new, duller, depressing life, but right now he just wants to stay in bed forever.

Without Kurt, everything seems so off. With Kurt, his life had routine and interest and reason – now he's just not sure about anything. He's confused and uninspired, and he feels like he has nothing to leave this room for.

He snaps his eyes back open, looking towards the alarm clock on the bedside table. It's just past seven in the morning and he doesn't have class until eleven. An irritated groan escapes his lips and he just wants to scream and yell and shout because everything sucks and he can't sleep and he just wants to go home, except he doesn't know where that is, because it's always been with Kurt, but now he just doesn't belong there.

He shoves his face into his pillow and gives a scream that sounds more like a growl.

And he just ends up lying there, staring off into space in the dark room until he finds enough energy to push himself out of bed and pad down the hallway towards the bathroom. He flicks the light on, rubbing at his tired eyes.

A little shock runs through Blaine as he looks in the mirror, because it's morning and he knows he doesn't look great, but he had no idea he looked this _horrible. _He's pale and strung-out, dark circles under his eyes – which look darker and duller. His curls are a complete mess, lopsided on his head, and there seems to be worry lines etched across his forehead, accenting the permanent frown.

He sighs, and wonders if everything seems so awful now – how will he progress?

.

.

Kurt wakes up ten minutes after his alarm sounds, slapping his hand blindly down on the clock. He keeps his eyes closed for a moment, just wishing that when he opens them, Blaine will be lying next to him, sound asleep. And he'll get up and cook breakfast and Blaine will come out just before he leaves, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist and kissing his ear.

But there's no warmth next to Kurt and he knows he's just being a fool, hurting himself even further.

He turns over, looking at the empty space beside him, and his heart wrenches inside his chest, tears springing to his eyes. Involuntarily, his hands move up, clamping themselves to his chest and his fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt, holding tightly as the sobs begin all over again.

He cries for just a few minutes until he gets ahold of himself and calms down, taking long, deep breaths. He wipes the sleeve of his shirt across his eyes and under his running nose, hiccupping slightly.

The clock tells him he only has a half hour before he has to be in class, and he decides _fuck it_ and reaches for his cell phone. The school won't miss him, but he calls in sick to work, which really turns out not to be a lie, because after he lies back down, ten minutes into trying to fall asleep, he's assaulted by sadness again. The pain hits afresh as thoughts and memories flash through his mind like some personal horror movie. Everything is astoundingly intense and he finds himself racing to bathroom where he vomits into the toilet bowl, heaving and coughing.

He flushes the toilet and then rests his head against the cool porcelain, waiting for the sobs to grip him. But nothing comes – no tears, no sobs, no more puking, and he just finds himself on the ground, exhausted and worn out, feeling nothing but emptiness.

Somehow, he drags himself back to his bed, where he lies under the covers, staring at the fabric of the sheets. And he tries desperately to ignore everything he's thinking and succumb to the numbness.

.

.

"Blaine, you should eat something," Rachel urges as she sits down carefully next to him on the bed.

He'd just gotten home from a work just under two hours ago, and headed straight for his guest room where he's now been working determinedly through all of his schoolwork. Really, he's just trying to find things to keep his mind occupied.

He shakes his head, continuing to type away on his laptop. "I'm not hungry," he says, and it's not a lie, because thoughts of Kurt keep threatening to break through his mind, and it makes him feel sick to his stomach, so he's pretty sure if he tried to eat, it would just come back up.

Rachel sighs, and reaches out slowly, putting her hand on Blaine's back and rubbing it gently. "I know you're upset," she says softly, "but starving yourself isn't going to make you feel any better."

Blaine gives a sigh, jerking a little at her touch. "I'm not starving myself, Rachel. I just – I don't have an appetite, and I feel sick when I think about everything, and I – I – "

"Take a deep breath," Rachel says, stern but caring.

And he does, closing as eyes as he does so, allowing his muscles to relax. He thinks of happy things – of singing until he's out of breath, of bowing as the crowd roars, of long walks through the park, of curling up with a good book. (But avoids anything that has directly to do with Kurt).

He opens his eyes, looking to Rachel.

"Better?" she asks.

"Somewhat," he replies. "Not much."

Rachel nods, and stands up. "Come on," she says. "Finn's watching the game out in the living room. You can watch with him while I make you something to eat."

Blaine gives a sigh. He's not really excited about the Finn part because he's worried that the guy is secretly angry with him for breaking his brother's heart, but puts his laptop down and follows after Rachel anyway.

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.

Kurt is disoriented when he wakes up, sprawled across his bed and tangled in the blankets. He sits up slowly, groaning. He has a killer headache, his chest is tight, and his stomach is still churning.

It's odd – how he, the strong one, the brave one, the one who always goes through everything with a smile plastered on his face and a sense of determination pulsing through him, is starting to collapse. He's given his everything to Blaine, and now to have it all come crashing down, thrown awkwardly back at him – it's disheartening. He feels like he's lost himself, like he has no idea how to pick up the pieces and put himself back together.

But he's going to have to figure out a way. He doesn't want to waste his life away regretting everything and dwelling in the heartache, but then again, without Blaine, he feels like he doesn't have much to live for.

With a heavy sigh, he stands up, leaning against the bed for a moment to support himself. The room spins around him and he takes a deep breath before straightening up and leaving the bedroom.

His heart drops as he enters the silence of the empty apartment. Sun shines through the windows in the kitchen, illuminating the joint rooms, but everything still seems dim. The TV's off, but the radio is still playing at low volume. In the kitchen the dirty dishes from last night's dinner still sit in the sink, and something inside Kurt crumbles as he realizes it was less than twenty-four hours ago that he and Blaine were sitting across from each other at the table, eating and talking and laughing.

He bites back the whimper wishing to leave his lips and goes the fridge, digging inside for an iced tea. Normally, he'd prefer coffee, but coffee reminds him of medium drips, and medium drips reminds him of warm, happy dates and confessions of love, and he just doesn't want to go down that road right now.

He sips the tea as drags himself out to the living room, where he collapses onto the sofa, curling up, and leaning his head back.

Missing school was probably not the smartest of ideas, but he still doesn't even know how he's alive and breathing and finding a way to move on. He just feels so utterly broken, but somehow he's keeping his head up. He knows that he'll have to go back tomorrow, and that the next few days will be spent desperately trying to catch up, but he can't bring himself to care or worry.

And at least he'll have something to keep his mind off other things.

.

.

And this is the way the two of them continue.

Barely getting by and hanging to those last threads of sanity and willingness. They push through the days, exhausting themselves as they do their best to get through. They come home and work and eat and sometimes they'll find themselves staring off into space, thoughts racing through their minds, and yet they have no idea how they got there. At night they curl up and let thoughts of one another come crashing down. Tears spring to their eyes, and sobs rack their bodies until they tire themselves and finally fall asleep.

It's a draining and vicious cycle, but it's all they can do.

.

.

For Blaine, he has this irrational fear of seeing Kurt whenever he leaves the house, which makes it rather hard for him to go to school, and go to work, and just go out at all.

But on a Friday night, Finn convinces him to join guys' night, and he tags along with him and a few guys from Finn's work.

Blaine throws on an old, fitted plaid shirt and scuffed up dress shows at the end of his skinny jeans, and it feels so weird to be dressing up in hopes of impressing a guy. With Kurt, there was no need to impress – they loved each other regardless, and they both knew it.

He doesn't know what he's doing – going out and pretending to have fun. Drinking and dancing and flirting with strangers while he's dying inside.

Eventually he leaves Finn and his friends, rolling his eyes as he stumbles his way to the bar, pushing pass people grinding and laughing and having a good time. A steady ache has settled itself inside his chest, and he lets himself frown at last as he hops up on a stool.

"A McGolden Light, please," he say to the bartender, keeping it plain and simple, and he's never felt more relieved at the sight of alcohol in his life as the bottle is handed to him. He cracks the top off and takes a hearty swig, feeling a little burst of something alive.

He finishes the first bottle pretty quickly, belches, and then asks for another. Halfway through that one, a rather handsome young man slides up next to him, his blond hair wisped across his forehead and his blue eyes sparkling in the dim light.

He orders a cocktail and takes a careful sip before turning to Blaine with mischievous grin on his face. "Hello," he says, and his voice is soft and welcoming, and it's something Blaine needs right now.

"Hey," Blaine says, forcing a smile. "I'm Blaine," he adds.

"Lucas," the guy replies, and he turns in his seat, giving Blaine all his attention. "You here alone?" he asks with a hint of pity in his voice.

"No." Blaine shakes his head. "I just didn't want to be around my friends anymore."

"Too overbearing?" Lucas asks, taking another sip of his cocktail.

Blaine nods. "They were getting on my nerves. They finally stopped watching my every move and I snuck away. I just went through a bad breakup," he adds as a bit of an afterthought, though the confession sends a stab of pain through him.

Lucas nods, biting his lip. "I know how that goes," he says with a sigh. "My last boyfriend cheated on me with three other guys."

Blaine's eyebrows shoot up his head, and he takes a quick swig of beer. "My last boyfriend was the love of my life," he says quietly. "I don't quite know how it all fell apart." He laughs bitterly and drains the bottle.

Lucas offers him a sad smile before a thoughtful look passes over his face. "Well," he says, "Maybe I could help take your mind off that."

Blaine laughs, and it's almost sincere. Lucas seems like such a gentle guy. He's not being pushy or forceful, and Blaine appreciates his kindness. "Would you like to dance with me?" he asks, and Lucas's smile widens.

"I'd love too," he replies and the two of them link hands, fighting their way across the dance floor.

A series of songs, and two and a half more drinks later, Blaine finds himself in the back of the bar near the bathrooms, his lips locked on Lucas's and Lucas's tongue fighting its way into his mouth. They've got their arms wrapped around each other, holding tightly, longing and desperate for escape.

In a moment, Blaine feels Lucas backing up, and he follows, still kissing and nipping Lucas's lips. They stumble into the bathroom, and Blaine moves one hand towards Lucas's face, moving his fingers into his soft hair. Blaine grinds his hips against Lucas's and lets out a low groan, and just like that, he feels his belt loosen. He realizes with a start that Lucas is tugging at the front of his jeans, trying to pull them off.

As much as Blaine wants to continue with this, wants to continue with pretending like this could ever possibly work, he can't. Because they're just two broken-hearted, drunken guys wanting to get away, wanting to forget the past and move on even though the past is racing to catch up with them. Neither of them can let go of that last boyfriend, and this is only going to end up being a stupid regret in the morning.

Blaine pushes Lucas away, staggering backwards.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, looking into those eyes that look so like Kurt's, "but you and I both know we shouldn't be doing this."

He races from the bathroom without another word, re-buckling his belt as he goes.

.

.

It's raining when he gets outside, and it only reminds him of the pitter-patter on the walls during the fight.

Kurt's voice, filled with anger and frustration, rings through his ears and he leans against the side of the building. His heart beats in a jagged sort of fashion, throbbing painfully at odd beats. His legs give out from underneath him and he sinks to the ground, the icy raining slashing against his face, contrasting the warm trickle of his tears.

.

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He wakes up in the morning with an awful hangover and tainted lips.

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.

Kurt sees Blaine for the first time since he left on a chilly Wednesday evening.

Kurt's standing awkwardly on the streets, a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck and mouth, with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He's waiting for the bus impatiently, bouncing on the balls of his feet with an irritated expression on his face.

And then he hears that all-too-familiar laugh.

He turns _eversoslightly_, looking down the block, and there he is, curls blowing in the wind, and a huge smile spread across his lips. He's walking with another man, and he seems oddly familiar. Something clicks in Kurt's mind and he somehow recognizes as one of the Warblers from the short time he'd spent at Dalton in junior year.

Something inside of Kurt burns, and he feels disconnected and dizzy, his eyes still following the two men as they move closer to him. He knows he should look away, should hide from their view because it would be extremely awkward if either of them recognized him, but he can't make himself move at all.

He's stuck in a sense of mingled shock, anger, and regret, and it's like that door slamming of their apartment all over again. He swallows hard as bile rises in his throat.

Only when Blaine laughs again, does he look back towards the busy street, peering out and praying for the bus to arrive any second. He holds his breath as Blaine and the other man walk past him, continuing on, on what looks like a date.

.

.

He knows he should be happy – should be glad that Blaine has been able to move on and find someone, but he's just breaking all over again because this is what he most feared. He's been dreading losing Blaine, and now that it's happened, he feels hopeless and unsure.

He thought the point of this separation was to bring them closer together, to help them work out their problems and compromise and love each other again.

But they haven't even spoken since the night Blaine left.

He's starting to lose all the faith he's been holding onto, and he feels so incredibly stupid for believing this could've worked. That splitting up and avoiding each other like the plague would eventually push the two of them together.

It's all just a fairytale – that he'd simply wake up one morning and Blaine would be there, that he'd apologize to Kurt, and Kurt would apologize to him, and they'd throw themselves in each other's arms, kissing and telling each other how much they loved the other, how they don't ever want to be separated again.

Tears spill from his eyes, because even through all of this, all of this pretending, all of this pushing things and memories and wishes from his mind, Blaine hasn't escaped him once.

Every day he sits and allows Blaine to enter his mind just for the briefest of moments, allows the sadness to fill him up for a second, allows the memories to come rushing back, allows the dreams and visions of the future he wants grace his imagination.

And every day he's let down.

Because obviously Blaine's not coming back. Obviously Blaine's a lot happier without him and it just kills him inside because he can't be happy _without_ Blaine. He _can't_ move on. He can't make himself love another because he's still so ridiculously in love with Blaine.

And to realize that he won't ever be loved back again is enough to tear him apart even farther than before.

.

.

Kurt returns home fairly early.

The clock reads seven-twenty-eight, but all he wants is to sleep. All he wants is to escape this bitter reality and find happiness in dreams.

He throws off his jacket and slips out of his shoes, heading for the bathroom. There, he downs two Ambien, and washes his face, not even bothering to look in the mirror for fear of seeing just how awful he must look at this point.

He collapses into bed, still dressed in his day clothes, and soon the medication takes over, pulling him into the darkness.

.

.

Blaine gives a sigh as he enters his guest bedroom.

He throws himself on top of his bed, so fucking tired of his life, of having to force himself through everything.

It was nice seeing Flint today. To catch up and have some normality in his life. But it also stung because he had to listen to Flint talk all about his boyfriend, and how they met on vacation in England, and how they both found out that they live in New York, and all this romantic shit that eats away more at Blaine's heart.

And it kills him because he wishes so desperately he could be that happy and in love.

And he once was.

.

.

They continue on, pretending and waiting.

.

.

Every day, Blaine pulls out his phone, his thumb grazing over the screen as he scrolls through his contacts. He presses down, selecting _Kurt Hummel_, and holds it to his ear, just wishing to hear Kurt's voice, but he always chickens out before the first ring actually sounds, and hangs up, clutching the phone tightly in his fist.

Blaine tries as hard as he can to move on even the slightest. He doesn't want to forget Kurt, but he needs someone besides his ex-boyfriend's brother and his annoying, overbearing, mother hen of a best friend in his life.

But every time he tries, he ends up bailing out before the end of the date, making some excuse as to why he has to leave early.

Every time he comes home and throws up into the toilet bowl because this is wrong and he shouldn't be doing this, but he keeps fighting like the idiot he is.

.

.

Kurt takes a darker route, finding the worst part of this battle.

Sleepless nights plague him, and eventually he schedules a doctor's appointment where he's prescribed a sleeping aid and temporary antidepressants.

More than once, he abuses the sleeping pill, taking just a bit more because he knows that the effect will be stronger. He'll just sleep; he won't dream. Nightmares won't wake him up in the middle of the night, where he finds himself breathless and terrified, screaming out Blaine's name in a whisper of a voice.

He doesn't even try to find somebody else.

He sits alone most of the time, ignoring calls from coworkers and friends and buries himself in schoolwork or a good book or every once in awhile – he pulls out old photographs, reminiscing in the good times he and Blaine had. When they were happy and in love and only fought over stupid things like what to eat for dinner or what movie they'd watch on their weekly movie night.

He knows it isn't good for him, but he can't find the urge to care.

.

.

A month after he's left, Blaine finds an apartment just a few blocks away from Finn and Rachel's.

He's able to move out quickly because he didn't have many belongings to begin with.

It's a bit of jolt to be setting up everything in the apartment, because it makes everything so much more real.

_He left Kurt._

He moved out and he's starting his life without him, and it just doesn't make sense because whenever he used to look into the future, dream about what it would be like – it always involved Kurt. Living together, sleeping together, raising a family together, just _being_ together.

Now that it seems like that isn't going to happen, for the first time, Blaine isn't sure what's going to happen.

And he's afraid.

Because the one thing he could always count on being there is gone.

.

.

Blaine eventually sucks it up, and comes to a decision.

Because it was only ever absolutely _ridiculous_ to believe he could live without Kurt.

And really, to be involved in each other's lives doesn't necessarily have to mean they need to be in love.

.

.

It's one of those sleepless nights.

Kurt's currently waiting on his next prescription of sleep medication, and because he's become dependent it on it to sleep peacefully, he's tossing and turning and letting out noises of frustration as he urges at least some bit sleep to come.

He's drifting off, almost entirely asleep when his phone vibrates on the bedside table. He assumes it's just a text and doesn't move, but when it continues to vibrate, he shoots up, reaching for it, irritated.

His heart almost stops when the Caller ID reads _Blaine Anderson._

Thanking God that his prescription has just run out, he presses TALK, holding the phone to his ear with a trembling hand.

"Hello?" Kurt asks softly.

"Oh, good, you are awake," he hears Blaine say on the other end of the line.

And Kurt's heart squeezes inside his chest, because it's been _sofuckinglong_ since he's heard Blaine's voice. So long since they've said a word to one another, and he's spent so long just wishing for this moment, where everything is calm and peaceful and it seems like it's almost normal again.

"Yeah," is all he replies with a bitter laugh.

"I miss you," Blaine blurts out because that's all he's been able to think since the moment he stepped out of their apartment, and it's all he's really wanted to tell Kurt.

"I miss you too," Kurt replies, and that's such an understatement, because he's been driving himself into insanity and making himself sick over this – over how much he needs Blaine back in his life.

"Do you think there's any way we could fix this?" Blaine asks, and Kurt has to refrain from screaming, _"Yes!"_ "I'm not – I'm not saying I want to be your boyfriend again," Blaine continues, and Kurt feels his heart sink just for a moment, "but I don't want you out of my life."

And because it's just the cliché, and because Kurt needs it more than anything, he asks, "We can just be friends, can't we?"

Blaine laughs on the other end, and it's such a beautiful sound. A beautiful sound that Kurt has missed so, so much. "I'm sure we can," Blaine replies, and Kurt almost squeals.

"I'm glad to hear it," Kurt says, and a smile blooms across his face.

There's an awkward silence for a moment until Blaine sighs. "Listen – I'm really tired, but I needed to talk to you. I'll call you soon, okay?"

"Okay," Kurt replies, and he waits until Blaine hangs up, holding onto that last sound.

.

.

Kurt doesn't sleep that night, but he hardly cares.

.

.

When Blaine wakes up, he feels like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders and chest.

He sits up, looking at the window at the dreary sky above, and a genuine laugh escapes his lips.

.

.

Kurt is anxious all day, his leg twitching and his eyes continually flickering towards the clock.

This feeling of hope and longing has embodied itself inside him, and though he knows he's still a mess, and even though Blaine is probably just fine with his new life, he wants things to go back. Not exactly the same, but at least slightly, because he can't go on if Blaine's not there. And he's so sick and tired of pretending like he doesn't need Blaine because he so desperately does.

And if this is his chance to make everything right again, he's going to take it and use it as best he can.

It isn't until late afternoon that his phone rings, and he's leaping for it, swiping it off the coffee table and reading that Caller ID again_. Blaine Anderson_. It still shocks him, and a little thrill goes through him as he holds it to his ear, a smile sprouting across his lips.

"Hello?" he says, and his voice sounds so different than it has been; it's happy and bright.

"Hey," Blaine replies, and Kurt can hear the smile in his voice.

There's an odd sort of tension between them, but it isn't bad per se. It's feeling like they're desperate. They're talking, and they're happy, but it isn't the same. There's more still there, but they're afraid to pursue it, afraid everything will only come crashing down again.

"How are you?" Kurt asks, because it's all he's ever cared about, and he just needs to know.

"I'm doing fine," Blaine replies simply. "You?"

"Great," Kurt replies, thought it's a total lie.

He's happy yes, but for the past six weeks he's been falling harder and harder with each day. He's on two medications right now, and has gone through about four before they finally found the right antidepressants.

Blaine tells Kurt about how he's got an audition scheduled for and off-Broadway show, and he's got that childish excitement in his voice that Kurt loves so much. He talks about his classes, and how he's developed a knack for screenwriting. And it's almost like nothing's happened – like they're still the best of friends, simply separated by distance and not stupidity and heartache.

Kurt laughs and smiles, congratulating Blaine and wishing him good luck, and he tries not to think about how happy Blaine still seems to be with Kurt out of his life. And then Blaine asks him what's been going on in his life, and he has to lie his ass off because he doesn't need Blaine to know what a wreck he's been.

He doesn't have anything going on for him at all. All he has is passing grades and a sometimes spot in the college's cheesy choir. He has no internship offers, no outstanding design opportunities, but he tells Blaine it's because others are so much better than him and not because he fell into a depression and developed severe insomnia.

Blaine lets out a sympathetic sigh and gives Kurt words of encouragement. "I'm sure you'll be the one going far soon."

And Kurt knows he isn't lying because he's Blaine and he's always had too much faith in Kurt.

"I hope," Kurt replies. "So how's the new apartment?"

Blaine tells him – how he got an extremely good deal, and how it's smaller then the one they shared together, but it's newer and it's nice. What he doesn't tell him is how empty it feels, and how dark it seems, and how he hates being in it alone so he spends all the time he can out of it – whether it be on the streets or at a friends' places.

They talk for awhile longer, catching up, and they don't really ever want to stop. They could talk on and on and into the night, just as they did over summers apart, and back in the days when Blaine went to Dalton and Kurt went to McKinley. They'd like to go on, but they know it'd be awkward, and so at half past seven, Blaine tells Kurt he has some work to get done and tells him goodbye.

Kurt almost adds an "I love you" after he says goodbye in return, but catches himself at the last second.

.

.

And this is how they begin to mend their disaster of a relationship.

With three-hour calls twice a week and texts in between.

They share exciting tales, and create and repeat inside jokes, and a glimmer of hope shines between them. It's obvious how much they've missed each other, how much they still do, but they don't ever voice it.

And slowly, oh so slowly, things turn back to almost a fraction of normal.

.

.

On a Friday night, Kurt's powering through a five-thousand word essay when Blaine calls him and informs him that he and Rachel are planning to go shopping on Sunday, finding something nice for Blaine to wear to his audition in three weeks, and he asks Kurt to come because he's the "number one fashion expert."

"I mean you are a designer, after all," Blaine laughs, and Kurt wishes things could be simple again.

"Not yet," is what he replies, but he agrees to go. "But I'd love to come, Blaine. I haven't had much to time for myself lately, so this would be a wonderful chance to clean out that craphole I call my closet."

Blaine laughs again, and Kurt's heart flutters.

They talk for more than they ever plan, but it's okay because they've needed this, and only when Blaine's about to fall asleep on the other line do they hang up and go to bed.

.

.

Blaine checks his watch, biting his lip, and when did he become so nervous?

He looks into the rearview mirror, checking his carefully-gelled hair, and he hears Rachel give an irritated sigh beside him. He gives her a look of warning.

"Don't."

"Well, come on, Blaine," she says, rolling here eyes. "It's so obv – "

"Not a word," Blaine cuts her off. "Kurt and I tried once, and it didn't work out."

"Then why are you so anxious?" she counters. "Why do you keep checking your hair and clothes every five seconds? Why do you keep looking at your watch?"

"Because he's running late and this is going to be extremely awkward for both me and him," Blaine replies.

"Why?" Rachel asks, a smirk turning up her lips.

"_Because_," Blaine says forcefully, "we haven't seen each in over two months. The last time we did we were fighting like there was no tomorrow."

"Whatever you say," Rachel says, looking away from him. "But I know you still love him. You're just too afraid to admit it. You're scared that if you something, he'll – "

"Enough," Blaine says firmly, and a second later, Kurt slides into the backseat.

Rachel gives Blaine a smug look.

.

.

However, Blaine is right.

.

.

Neither of them knows how to be friends with the other.

They don't know because they've hardly been _just friends_. Even when they were back in high school, and that's all they were, they were both secretly or unknowingly in love with the other. It's always been _KurtandBlaine_, joined at the hip, lovers and friends, meant to be. And now it's just Kurt and Blaine, awkward friends who have just reunited after a nasty breakup and are stupid enough to think that being _just friends_ is going to work.

So they rub along as easily as the two of them can; sitting too far apart, and walking with a distance between them, and always being aware of the other, and avoiding grabbing the same clothes for fear of touching the other's hands, and never laughing too long, and keeping their smiles small, and never mentioning the past. It's annoying and tedious, but it's something they feel they have to do if they're going to stay in the friendzone comfortably.

At the end of the day, they give each other wide smiles, and this is usually the part where they kiss each other goodbye, except now that's out of question, so instead, they pull each other into a quick hug, slapping each other's backs as to make sure it seems more friendly than romantic.

Kurt thanks Blaine for the ride and hurries into his apartment building.

Rachel looks to Blaine, raising her eyebrows, and he tells her to _shut the fuck up._

.

.

Blaine turns over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow and letting out an obnoxious groan of frustration.

He's glad he got to see Kurt, but it's only heightened his longing for things to go back. It's only made him feel worse about leaving. And it shatters him just a little bit more because he knows he's stupid to wish all this but he can't help it even though he knows nothing will ever be the way it was before.

.

.

Kurt sits up, awake but exhausted.

It was a wonderful day, that much he'll admit, but it was more draining than he had predicted.

It was such an effort to keep reminding himself that Blaine wasn't his boyfriend, but it was so hard because he hasn't seen Blaine in so long and all he wants is for Blaine to hold him again. To kiss his forehead and tell Kurt that he loves him. To snuggle close to him and tell Kurt that he's beautiful. To go to sleep next to Kurt and wake up after him, coming into the kitchen with his insane bedhead and nothing on but his boxers and once in awhile his t-shirt.

Kurt sighs and rubs his tired eyes, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes.

He wants so much more, but he supposes he'll have to settle with the relationship with Blaine he's got.

.

.

They don't hang out soon after the shopping trip, because they're busy with school things, and Blaine has the audition to practice for.

But they keep texting, and during each break between class, Kurt checks his phone, seeing some new adorable text from Blaine and quickly responds, biting his lip as he smiles. He puts his phone back in his pocket, heaving a sigh, like he's sixteen years old, falling in love for the first time with Blaine all over again.

He's on his lunch break one day when Blaine sends him a picture from his theatre class of a girl dressed in slacks and a baggy Christmas sweater. He spits iced tea all over his food and nearly gags on his laughter. Underneath the picture is the caption: _I figured you'd find this entertaining :). _ _I actually shook my head and put a hand to my face while almost simultaneously pissing myself. _Kurt chokes imagining it.

It's nearly ten at night when Blaine calls him in an overexcited voice and proceeds to tell Kurt that he's just found a lightsaber buried away in a box full of his old things. Kurt can tell he's been testing it out because he sounds somewhat out of breath, and he just laughs, shaking his head at what a nerd Blaine is.

.

.

It's moment like these that keep Kurt going.

.

.

It's the night of Blaine's audition, and Kurt is up, waiting to hear from him, scrolling down Facebook and checking his texts and making sure he hasn't had any missed calls. He tells himself he's staying up this late, desperate for information because he and Blaine are best friends and not because he cares about him more than he probably should.

He sits curled up in the living room with music playing softly in the background and just thinks and waits and prays and panics. He fidgets and bites his lip and a holds a pillow pressed up against his abdomen, trying not to freak out.

But it isn't until Kurt's half asleep and hunched over on the couch, his head hanging forward and drool leaking from his mouth that Blaine finally calls. Kurt's phone vibrates obnoxiously from the coffee table and he jerks awake, the pillow flying from his lap. He dives for his phone and shoves it to his hear, gasping out, "Blaine?"

But before he even has his name out, Blaine is practically shouting, "I got a callback!"

Kurt's instantly wide awake and he jumps up from the couch, clamping a hand over his mouth as he squeals with excitement. "Are you serious?"

"One hundred percent," Blaine says breathlessly.

"Oh my God, congratulations," Kurt says. "We – we're going to have to celebrate."

Blaine laughs, agreeing.

.

.

Blaine hands Kurt his cup of coffee, and it's funny because even now it's just the same – Blaine orders for them, paying by himself and they sit down and talk and it's like any ordinary date except they aren't dating.

It's starting to settle into the chill of winter, wispy flakes falling from the sky, and as they take seats in a booth next to the window of the small café, their breath fogs up the glass.

They jump into conversation, Blaine telling Kurt about everything at his audition, how he nailed his monologue and excelled at his song. How the directors and producers reacted perfectly and seemed to generally like him. All this while, a permanent smile seems to be etched on his face, and Kurt feels like there's something warm glowing inside his stomach. He smiles and nods and takes in every word Blaine says, soaking in his musical voice, his sparkling eyes, his shining smile.

"When is the callback?" Kurt asks, taking a careful sip of his medium drip.

"A week from today," Blaine replies, staring nervously down at the table.

"Hey." Kurt reaches out, touching his hand momentarily, and then blushes furiously, pulling back. "You'll do perfect."

Blaine smiles back shyly, nodding. "I certainly hope so." He's still looking down, his long eyelashes dusting over his cheeks.

.

.

And Kurt's heart can't take it anymore.

.

.

He leans forward, lifting from his seat, and his lips are suddenly crashing against Blaine's as he somehow manages to not knock over either coffees, and he moves one hand up to cup Blaine's jaw.

Blaine kisses back, hard and eager, reaching for Kurt. Gasps and moans sound and they keep moving, desperate for more after going so long without it.

At the same time, they open their eyes slowly, realizing what they've done.

They sink back into their seats, and Kurt's jaw drops.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, seeing Blaine's shocked expression. "I shouldn't have done that."

And he leaves without another word, his coffee left on the table.

.

.

Snow swirls around him as he races down the block, not quite sure where he's going.

Once he's lost and freezing and just too tired keep going, he hails a cab and rides home.

Inside, he kicks angrily at the door, cursing himself for being so stupid. He storms towards his room where he collapses to his bed and the sad part of the cycle takes over.

.

.

His phone vibrates multiple times, and he knows that the Caller ID will say.

_Blaine Anderson._

But he doesn't have the heart to pick up.

.

.

Blaine paces back and forth in his room, sighing as once again he gets Kurt's voicemail. He chucks his phone across the room, letting out a grunt of frustration, because, fuck, _will they ever get this right?_

He sits on the edge of the bed, then falls backward, reaching up to grip his hair in between his fingers. All he can think about is that goddamn kiss and how he just wants more right now. How he just wants Kurt to answer his damn phone so that he can tell Kurt that he loves him. That he always did and always will.

Except with Kurt's reaction back at the coffee shop, he has no idea if it's appropriate.

It seems like Kurt loves him too, but with the way things went, it also seems as if Kurt's fighting it, as if he wants to move and wants to keep everything the way it is – with them hanging on as borderline friends.

And it kills Blaine inside because they're just _so fucking close._

They're so close to everything being normal and loving each other and fixing all this and he just wants it all to be over. To be rid of the sadness and anger and frustration. To just be together like they're meant to be.

Blaine rolls over onto his side, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes and trying to calm his mind.

.

.

"_Hey, Kurt, it's Blaine. I know you probably don't want to talk to me right now, but I need to talk to you. I'm not mad. Not at all. We just need to talk about this."_

_._

_._

"_Did I do something wrong? I told you I'm not mad, Kurt. I just want to talk."_

_._

_._

"_Hey, Kurt. It's me again, and I just want to talk to you, okay? I'm not blaming you for anything, I'm not mad, I'm not upset. Maybe you're confused about everything . . ? I don't know. But we need to talk." _

.

.

"_Kurt, please. Please pick up your phone. This isn't just going to go away. We need to talk about that kiss."_

.

.

"_Kurt, come on. Please just talk to me. I've called you probably eighty times over the past two days. I know I've sent an insane amount of text messages. I just need to hear your voice. To know you aren't mad at me. And I we need to talk. Please."_

.

.

"_Ughh . . please, Kurt. Stop ignoring me."_

.

.

"_Kurt, I'm sorry, alright. This whole thing was stupid. I should've never moved out. I don't know what made me think everything was going to get better if I did. I was dumb and stupid and I just want to make this right. Please, please, answer."_

.

.

"_I love you, alright. I love you, Kurt. I want to be with you again. Please."_

.

.

"Kurt."

.

.

Blaine lets out a loud noise of frustration and anger, shoving his phone back in his pocket.

He takes three deep breaths, calming himself and looks over his monologue one more time. He needs to get Kurt out of his mind and focus on this audition. There's only two people left before him and he needs to make this count.

.

.

And it's funny how things work out.

How he was given that particular scene, that particular song, how he uses all his bottled-up emotions to put his all into his performance, acing everything.

.

.

And in the end, all this heartbreak seems to be worth it.

.

.

Kurt bites his lip, deleting the next unheard voicemail and glances at the clock, calculating the time in his mind.

He knows that Blaine should be done with audition by now, but Kurt is torn. He wants to check, his nerves are going haywire, and maybe if Blaine has gotten the role, he'll feel just the slightest bit better, because then Blaine will have something else to concentrate on and maybe this will all blow over.

Maybe he can avoid the humiliation and the rejection and the hurt. Maybe, if just for a short time. Because maybe Blaine will forget about him and find someone else. Or maybe he already has. Maybe Blaine will fall in love with that someone else and they'll move in together and start a family and grow old. Maybe that's the way this was all supposed to end.

Kurt sighs and runs a shaky hand through his hair, exhaling. He gives his head a shake, pushing the thoughts from his mind.

He sits down on the couch, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders and switching on the TV. He curls up into a ball, resting his chin on his knees and tries to absorb himself in what's happening onscreen.

.

.

It all works until a knock sounds at his apartment door.

.

.

He shoots upward, freezing after a second.

"Kurt, please open up. I have good news."

He curses under his breath and then gives a sigh, pushing himself slowly off the couch. He takes a deep breath as he walks toward the door, bracing himself as he pulls it open.

Blaine stands there, snowflakes littered across his scalp and all over his shoulders and scarf.

"I got the part," he says with a smile. "Link Larkin – in an off-Broadway production of Hairspray."

Kurt can feel the tension building between them, the awkwardness rising to an almost unbearable point, but he ignores it and goes on pretending, goes on acting like his life depends on it because he can't break now.

"Congrats," he says quietly, and he barely gets the word out before Blaine is wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist and pulling him close, pressing his lips against Kurt's.

Kurt relaxes almost immediately and he melts against Blaine, pulling his arms up and running his fingers through Blaine's wet hair and opening his mouth to let Blaine's tongue through. They stand there for the longest of moments, filling with bliss and happiness at last.

Blaine is the one to pull away, gasping for breath.

"I love you," he breathes. "I never stopped. I never found anyone else. I never could. Kurt, I love you so much and I regretted leaving since the moment I did. I want to be yours again. And I want you to be mine. I want to stay with you forever and live my life by your side."

Tears are already leaking down Kurt's cheeks and he smiles, laughing a little.

"I never stopped loving you either," he whispers back. "And of course I want to be yours." And then everything spills out. "I was such a mess, Blaine. You know, I'm on medication right now – for depression and insomnia. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't live without you."

Blaine shakes his head, scoffing. "God, I'm sorry," he says, and his eyebrows dip, his eyes sparkling with sadness. "I was so fucking stupid. I still can't understand why I did what I did."

"Don't blame yourself," Kurt says quickly, reaching up to cup Blaine's cheek in his hand. "It was both of our faults. We both argued. We both fought. We both said stupid things and it snowballed out of control. The important thing now," he says, rubbing his thumb across Blaine's skin gently, "is that we know that we'll always work it out. That we love each other and no amount of anything will ever change that."

Blaine nods, pressing his lips together and smiling.

"I won't ever leave again," he says after a moment. "I promise."

Kurt smiles in return and kisses him again, soft and slow. "I know."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Goodness. This was draining to write. I stayed up really late the past two nights desperate to finish it, and I hope it's worth it. (:

I usually include songs with my fics, but most of the time I write the fic first and then pick a song to go with it. This one however, the song inspired the fic. The beautiful and heartwrenching song Lonely Lullaby by Owl City. It's one of the only completely personal songs Adam Young has written, and it's stunningly gorgeous. Definitely worth a listen.

Reviews are love.


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